50 Cent ft Eminem  Till I Collapse

50 Cent -  1998 Freestyle Trackmasters ( Rare audio ).mp3

50 Cent - Position Of Power

50 Cent - Guns For Sale Slowed&Reverb

These joke nigga’s clowns, send em rounds after rounds,
Put a nigga down, send that nigga to the ground,
Can’t stand these lil nigga’s, fucking bastards,
Catch em, I blast em, send em to their masters.

In the side of town, with a 40, I’m possessed,
We could never second guess, put a bullet to they chest,
Catch a joke nigga slipping, we gon' put him to the test,
Like lil nigga, back up all that shit you said.

Demon bane, with aim of a fucking bullet train,
Leave em in a blood pool, a deadpool game,
Jordan with shots, like a Red Bull flame,
Send me meet his partners, like the set he claim.

Talk a big game, but can’t back it up,
Bulletproof truck, not a Acura,
When we deliver shots, that shit accurate,
Hit him in the chops, let that boy elaborate.

These opp side niggas fucking bastards,
I blast em, send em to the past tense,
Blessings from the pastor,
Flee the scene with laughter, send him to another chapter.
These opp side niggas fucking bastards,

Been a certified adaptor, phantom or the casper,
This ain’t fashion, camouflage for action,
Pull on his block when he’s jovial relaxing,
Tax him, blast him, send em to the past tense.

Trigger finger itching, middle finger to them niggas,
Couple sling dope, others known pulling triggers,
Caught him by the pasture, didn’t last long,
Caught him with a mic, that was his last song.


It's war, if it's beef, and it's smoke for a chief,
Send a nigga down to the belly of the beast,
Pull on his block with the Glock semi cocked,
Metal to his face, for selling rock on our block.

Demon bane, with aim of a fucking bullet train,
Leave em in a blood pool, a deadpool game,
Jordan with shots, like a Red Bull flame,
Send me meet his partners, like the set he claim.

Talk a big game, but can’t back it up,
Bulletproof truck, not a Acura,
When we deliver shots, that shit accurate,
Hit him in the chops, let that boy elaborate.

These opp side niggas fucking bastards,
I blast em, send em to the past tense,
Blessings from the pastor,
Flee the scene with laughter, send him to another chapter.
These opp side niggas fucking bastards,

Been a certified adaptor, phantom or the casper,
This ain’t fashion, camouflage for action,
Pull on his block when he’s jovial relaxing,
Tax him, blast him, send em to the past tense.

These joke nigga’s clowns, send em rounds after rounds,
Put a nigga down, send that nigga to the ground,
Can’t stand these lil nigga’s, fucking bastards,
Catch em, I blast em, send em to their masters.

In the side of town, with a 40, I’m possessed,
We could never second guess, put a bullet to they chest,
Catch a joke nigga slipping, we gon' put him to the test,
Like lil nigga, back up all that shit you said.

50 Cent - Click Clack Pow

OriginalOg

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